


There's Something About Her

by dragonflyMerri



Category: Arthur - Fandom, Gwaine - Fandom, Merlin - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Knights of the Eternal Throne Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 10:39:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17465990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonflyMerri/pseuds/dragonflyMerri
Summary: When Arthur and Merlin run into a woman in a tavern who is more trouble then in trouble, there's something very familiar about her. It isn't until they all get back to Camelot that the gob-smacking truth stares them right in the face. And Gwaine is NOT amused.





	1. A tavern visit

**Author's Note:**

> Gwaine only mentioned his sister once in the show. So...what was she really like do you suppose?

“There’s a tavern just up ahead, we’ll stop for a drink there,” Arthur called over his shoulder, tucking his heels into his horse to quicken the pace.  
Behind him, Merlin followed suit, glad for the chance to get off his horse. His bum really was getting sore. They’d been out ‘hunting’ for three days now, although the brace of pheasants and clutch of rabbits dangling off the back of Merlin’s saddle was a pitiful show for their efforts. In truth, Arthur just wanted to get out of Camelot, fed up with endless meetings with his council about the price of grain or the continuous battles between the sheep farmers and the cattle farmers.  
The two of them – the king and his manservant – had spent a relaxing, leisurely few days wandering around the forests, just like in the old days before Arthur became king. When not hunting, they stopped in at small villages, allowing Arthur to get the lay of the land and hear what concerns his people were talking about. Of course Arthur was in disguise, dressed as an ordinary huntsman while Merlin…well, Merlin just wore what he always wore as Arthur deemed it already “properly rag-tag and lower class. Really Merlin, it’s about time to get rid of that tatty red shirt and I’ve given you a new jacket – that one’s hanging off you by its last threads. Although I suppose for the purpose of this trip, they’ll do. But as soon as we return to Camelot, I want you to get rid of those clothes and start wearing that new purple shirt I got you and the new jacket.”  
They rounded the corner and a small village came into view, it’s local tavern the first building to greet visitors. Just as they rode up, the door flew open and a man came sailing out, landing with a thump on his back. Arthur and Merlin stared at the man, then turned to each other.  
“Perhaps we should- “  
“Come on Merlin, looks like there’s a bit of action in there.”  
Before Merlin could respond, another man came flying out the door, landing with a groan before slumping into unconsciousness.  
“I really don’t think this is a good idea, Arthur.” Merlin protested  
“Nonsense, this is just the distraction I need.” Arthur slid off his horse and tied it to a nearby tree. “Hurry up, Merlin – we don’t want to miss all the fun.”  
“Missing all the fun seems like a sensible idea to me,” Merlin muttered as he slid off his horse and tied it up next to Arthurs.  
Arthur reached the tavern door and opened it just in time for another body to fly out.  
“Arthur, I really don’t think-“  
“Precisely!” Arthur cut him off. “Don’t think, Merlin – you think too much. Just try to relax and have a bit of fun.”  
“How is getting my head knocked off going to be fun?” Merlin demanded.  
“Well for one thing, it’ll afford me quite a laugh. Now shut up and get in there.” With that, Arthur thrust Merlin into the tavern.  
Inside, the tavern was in total mayhem. It seemed the entire room was one giant brawl. Bodies, bottle, mugs and assorted furniture flew and Merlin ducked barely in time to avoid a bench thrown in his direction. The cluster of fighters parted for one brief moment, enough for Arthur and Merlin to see a lone woman in the thick of the mêlée.  
“Good gods! They’re fighting around that woman!” Arthur exclaimed in shock. “She’s going to get hurt.”  
“Arthur, wait!” Merlin called out but it was too late. Arthur had already waded into the fight, fists flying. Obviously he hadn’t seen what Merlin had seen – that the woman in the middle was busy throwing roundhouse punches of her own.  
Merlin tried to keep track of Arthur amidst the flailing bodies. He lost sight of him momentarily, then Arthur was suddenly flung out of the fight courtesy of a well-placed punch. Merlin barely had time to magic a table out of the way so Arthur landed on a pile of grain sacks instead. He rushed over to the fallen king.  
“Are you alright?”  
Arthur grinned up at him as he struggled to rise. “Almost reached her. I’ll get to her this time.”  
“Arthur, wait, I don’t think that woman needs help. She’s fighting back herself.”  
“Nonsense, Merlin – she’s just confused.” Arthur grinned and waded back in to the fight.  
Merlin shook his head. “There should be a law,” he muttered, watching Arthur in despair. “A king should have a brain – it should be a law.”  
There was a sudden ear shattering bellow and two mountains of flesh disguised as men crashed out of the inner circle of the fight, taking down half a dozen other fighters. The fall cleared the view for Merlin and he saw Arthur, now back to back with the woman, both of them with fists flying, although the woman was also landing a good number of well placed kicks that had Merlin unconsciously protectively covering his own manhood.  
Seeing that the majority of fighters were now down for the count, the woman looked around, spied Arthur and promptly laid him out with one well-aimed blow. Instinctively, Merlin’s magic kicked in and a stool came flying out of nowhere and walloped the woman from behind, sending her face forward on the ground. A few more magical flashes and the fallen opponents stayed down, suddenly too tired to continue the fight.  
Merlin rushed to Arthur’s side and pulled him to his feet, checking for damage. “That’s going to leave a bruise,” he said, turning Arthur’s face to check the blossoming red mark along his jawline.  
From the floor, the woman turned to look up at them, peering at them thru a fall of long brown hair. In a husky Irish drawl she asked, “Are you boys going to stand there or are you going to help a lady up?”  
Arthur reached out a hand and pulled the woman to her feet. “Madam, somehow, I don’t believe you’re much of a lady. But you’re a hell of a fighter.”  
The woman flipped back her hair in a strangely familiar gesture and threw back her head with a peal of laughter. Standing upright and still, both men got a better look at her. She had a strikingly attractive face with merry hazel eyes and a strong straight nose. A cascade of luxurious brown hair was parted on the side and tumbled in waves down her back. She was well built in all the right places without an ounce of fat. And she was dressed in a tunic and trousers, legs tucked into sturdy knee-high boots. A belt slung low on her hips could easily accommodate a sword – which, fortunately for all her opponents, she wasn’t wearing. And for some reason, she looked rather familiar.  
“Had a good look boys?” she asked cheekily and Merlin and Arthur both had the grace to blush.  
“Tell you what, boys. Buy me a drink and we’ll call it even.”  
“Even?” Arthur’s eyebrow rose is question.  
“You broke up a perfectly good fight, boyo. I was just getting going.” She looked around at her fallen opponents. “Since you’re the only two standing, you’ll have to do the buying.”  
“I’ll get the drinks,” Merlin said and headed to the bar. It appeared empty so he peered over the counter. A wide-eyed barmaid was crouched on the ground.  
“Is it over?” she asked.  
“All over,” Merlin smiled reassuringly. “Three mugs of ale please.”  
The barmaid rose and looked out at the carnage, then over to where Arthur and the woman were righting stools around a table to sit.  
“Do you know her?” The barmaid asked.  
Merlin shook his head. “We just arrived while this was already going on. Who is she?”  
“Trouble, that’s who she is!” The barmaid scowled as she filled three mugs with ale. “She’s been here three days in a row and each day ends up looking like this. Whoever is the last one standing has to buy her drinks. Looks like you’re the lucky fellows today.”  
“What’s her name? Is she from the village?”  
“Just passing through, thank the gods – she can’t move on fast enough for me. I don’t know her name, the local lads just call her the ‘fighter-woman’.”  
The barmaid put the filled mugs on the counter and Merlin paid her. He carried the tankards to where Arthur and the woman were chatting. Merlin placed one mug in front of each of them and sat down.  
The woman picked up her mug and drained it in one go. “Thirsty work, all that fighting,” she said, wiping the foam from her lips with the back of her hand.  
Merlin stared in admiration and he silently slid his own mug over to her.  
“Thanks sweetheart.” The woman picked up Merlin’s mug and took a couple of huge swallows before lowering it and smiling at him. “Well, you’re quite the pretty one, aren’t you,” she smiled and batted her eyelashes at him.  
Arthur snorted and downed half of his mug.  
“Now, now, don’t get your panties in a wad Princess,” The woman turned her attention back to Arthur. “You’re a little bit of alright, yourself.”  
Merlin couldn’t help the bark of laughter that shot out and he slammed a hand over his mouth. Princess! She’d called him Princess! Arthur hated that nickname.  
Arthur scowled at both of them. “My name is Arthur. I’d appreciate if you would use it. This useless wonder is Merlin. Might we have the pleasure of knowing your name?”  
The woman’s eyes widened. “My, my, aren’t we the posh-tosh. Well, Arthur – and pretty little Merlin,” she gave Merlin a wicked wink. “My name in Niamh, at your service.”  
“Niamh? An unusual name. You’re not from around here, are you?”  
“Oh I’m from far away across the waters. I was born and raised in Erie.”  
“Rather a long way from home. What are you doing here – aside from demolishing the place, that is?”  
Niamh shrugged. “Travelling, seeing the world, having an adventure.” She tossed her long brown hair and both Merlin and Arthur frowned in confusion at the familiar gesture. “I heard there was an interesting place called Camelot. Thought I’d check it out for myself.”  
“Camelot?” Arthur asked in surprise.  
“You know it?” Niamh grinned.  
“We just happen to be going there ourselves. Perhaps you’d like to join us on the journey?”  
Under the table Merlin kicked Arthur in the shin and received a swift, sharper kick back, right on the ankle bone. Merlin jumped, biting back a cry of pain.  
“Are you alright there, Merlin?” Niamh turned concerned eyes on him. “You look in pain.”  
“I’m fine.” Merlin grimaced through the pain. “So, you’re heading to Camelot too, quite the coincidence.”  
“Why are you boys heading there?” Niamh took another drink of her ale.  
“Oh, we live there,” Merlin said before Arthur cut him off.  
“We live nearby. I’m a huntsman….from nearby….nearby Camelot.”  
“Oh….’nearby’,” Niamh smirked. “That wouldn’t mean that you live out of reach of the king….and by ‘huntsman’ you wouldn’t mean poacher?”  
Merlin snickered and received another sharp kick under the table. He promptly glowered at Arthur.  
Niamh watched the interaction with great interest. Suddenly Arthur yelped and jumped.  
“Oh, I’m sorry, Princess – was that your leg? My foot got away from me.” Niamh smiled at him innocently.  
Merlin turned and beamed at her. He decided that perhaps he might like this Niamh. Niamh beamed back at him and an unspoken friendship was instantly formed.  
Seeing this, Arthur rolled his eyes and took another drink. Honestly, Merlin’s habit of making instant friends was irritating beyond belief. For the past three days, whenever Arthur returned from leaving Merlin alone momentarily, he’d return to find Merlin feeding a squirrel, or stroking a deer or, on one unforgettable occasion, seemingly having a conversation with an owl. Arthur firmly believed that Merlin could probably make friends with a doorpost given half the chance.  
Arthur lowered his mug to find that Niamh now had all her attention on Merlin, leaning over to display her ample cleavage, twirling her hair around her finger while she batted her eyelashes at Merlin and made some comment about how beautiful Merlin’s cheekbones were. They were just cheekbones, for gods sake! For his part, Merlin was blushing all over said cheekbones and giggling like a girl.  
“So, Niamh,” Arthur interrupted. “We just stopped in for a drink then we were going to be on our way. If you’re still interested in joining us, perhaps you should collect your belongings.”  
Niamh smiled at Arthur and gave him a suggestive wink. “Oh, I’m interested. If you boys can wait for a few minutes, I’ll get my things.” She flipped back her hair, stood up and sauntered to the staircase in the back.  
“Is it just me, or does she look familiar?” Merlin asked as both men watched her climb the stairs.  
“Not just you. She definitely looks familiar, but we’ve never met her before. She does remind me of someone…” Arthur trailed off consideringly.  
When Niamh disappeared around the top of the staircase, Merlin turned to Arthur. “She seems nice enough, but are you sure about her joining us on the trip back to Camelot?”  
“She’s going that way anyway, Merlin. We can’t exactly leave the lady to travel alone.”  
Merlin snorted. “She’s not exactly helpless – she laid you out quite nicely. I’m pretty sure she can take care of herself.”  
Arthur touched his tender jaw. “Nevertheless Merlin, it’s the decent thing to do. Camelot is only two days away. How much trouble can she cause in two days?”


	2. You've got a Sister?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arriving in Camelot - the truth about Niamh becomes abundantly clear...poor Gwaine

It turned out Niamh could cause quite a bit of trouble in two days. Unbelievably, she managed to cause bar brawls in both taverns they stopped at – one of which saw Arthur physically dragging her away while she was still swinging punches. After that, Arthur declared they were sticking to the trail and avoiding villages.  
On the trail, she told incredible stories of her adventures. At one point, Merlin was laughing so hard he fell off his horse – which sent Niamh into gales of laughter as she jumped off her horse to rescue him and the two of them ended up tumbled in the weeds, laughing like half-brained fools. Arthur dropped his head in despair at the pair of them. He really was glad that they only had one more night and half a day before reaching Camelot.  
That night, Niamh took a turn cooking supper and it turned out she was an excellent cook. She and Merlin bonded even more over talk of cooking techniques and herbs while Arthur watched and groused over being ignored. He missed the quite intimacy of just him and Merlin sitting around the fire.  
Later, while they lounged around the fire, Niamh told legends from her homeland –tales of fantastic beasts and heroic dragons and the wee magic folk who lived in the hills.  
“Dragons aren’t heroic,” Arthur declared, staring into the fire. “They’re destructive and bad tempered.”  
“Maybe that’s because you’ve not given them a fair chance,” said Niamh. “If you treat them fairly and with respect, dragons can become your allies.”  
“Allies? A dragon just about destroyed Camelot.”  
“Aye – and what did your people do to the dragon to cause it to turn on you? Dragon’s aren’t vindictive – they need just cause.”  
Arthur turned away and didn’t answer.  
“What about you, Merlin? Do you believe dragons are evil?” Niamh asked.  
Merlin smiled a secret smile as he stared into the fire. “Dragons are noble animals. I believe they could be an ally if people would stop hunting them, stop trying to destroy them.”  
“Have you forgotten what that dragon did to Camelot?” Arthur challenged from the other side of the fire. He stared at Merlin, firelight flickering in his eyes.  
“Gaius said that dragon was imprisoned by your father for years and years. Is it any wonder it hated Camelot and tried to destroy us?” Merlin stared back at Arthur and for a fleeting moment, the firelight seemed to turn his eyes golden. “Camelot has turned it’s back on magic and magical creatures. There’s no place for magic in Camelot, so magical creatures like dragons and unicorns are hunted and killed.” Merlin saw Arthur wince at the mention of the unicorn. “But in other parts of the world, people believe in magic and magical creatures and they live in harmony with them.”  
Arthur scoffed. “And how do you know so much of the beliefs in other parts of the world?”  
Merlin shrugged. “I read. There are many books in Geoffrey’s library about many different topics, Arthur. You should check it out sometimes – you might learn a thing or two.”  
Off to the side, Niamh watched the interaction between the two with great interest. There was no doubt that Arthur was in charge but Merlin was neither intimidated nor cowed by Arthur’s obvious supremacy. The two bickered like old friends and Arthur seemed to allow a great deal of leeway in Merlin’s behaviour – almost like an exasperated older brother.  
Niamh considered Arthur. Sitting in the reflection of the firelight, his hair shone like spun gold and there was a power in his bearing, a dignity, a gravitas about him as he argued with Merlin. But in his eyes, there was an obvious fondness for his friend. Over the past day and night, Niamh had often caught Arthur looking out for Merlin.  
Niamh’s gaze switched to Merlin and she found herself catching her breath. The light of the fire danced over Merlin’s face, dipping into the hollows of his cheeks, highlighting those ridiculous cheekbones and his eyes – they reflected the fire so that sometimes they seemed to glow golden with the light. Merlin looked like a creature of the forest – all fey and mysterious. And he stared back at Arthur, challenging him and…something else….  
“Enough, Merlin. You’ll never convince me that magical creatures can be good. I’ve fought dragons, been chased by wyverns, and battled a number of other magical beasts. On the whole, they all seem to be bad-tempered, miserable animals bent on mayhem and trying to eat me alive.” Arthur threw another piece of wood on the fire. “Tell you what – next time we encounter a magical beast, I’ll let you take the lead. Perhaps you can go up and have a nice little chat with them. “Oh, hello, nasty, ugly magical beast – my name is Merlin and I want to be your friend.”  
Merlin shook his head but a grin stretched his mouth. “Maybe I just might. And won’t you look all sorts of fool when I tame the beast.”  
“Not as much of a fool as you’ll look while I peel you out of their jaws.”  
The two men laughed at the notion and Niamh smiled at the private moment she had witnessed.

“Camelot” Arthur said as the three riders stared at the castle in the distance. Niamh didn’t miss the note of pride in Arthur’s voice.  
“It’ll be good to get home,” Merlin rode up next to Arthur.  
“Oh, is your little bottom sore from all the riding?” Arthur asked casually, spurring his horse on ahead.  
“Not nearly as sore as my ears are from listening to you for five days. Good thing Niamh was here to break up the tedium.”  
“Tedium? That’s a rather big word for you, Merlin.”  
“But the perfect word for you, Sire.”  
Niamh bit back a smile. The closer they had got to Camelot, the more Merlin let slip the title for Arthur. She had realized earlier in the day that Arthur was apparently someone of importance rather than an ordinary huntsman as he had claimed. And Merlin – well, Niamh still hadn’t quite worked out what Merlin was – a friend? An advisor? Definitely someone very close to Arthur.

The trio clattered over the drawbridge and into the courtyard of the castle. As soon as they arrived, a contingent of knights seemed to materialize to greet them. Stable boys came running to take their horses. Merlin dismounted then turned to help Niamh, but she was already standing.  
“By all the gods in heaven!” Gwaine bellowed as he saw who was with Arthur and Merlin. “What the hell have you brought her here for?”  
Niamh spun around at Gwaine’s voice. “God’s breath! – What the hell are you doing here?”  
The two surged towards each other, both talking at once…or rather, both swearing and yelling and shouting abuse at each other until they were face to face – practically nose to nose.  
Everyone stopped dead to watch the spectacle. The yelling seemed to slip from English to another language and back again, but one thing was abundantly clear – Gwaine and Niamh were not happy to see each other.  
“ENOUGH!” Arthur bellowed when it became clear the yelling was escalating.  
They both turn to glare at Arthur and everyone’s mouth dropped open in stunned amazement.  
Niamh and Gwaine are mirror images of each other – Gwaine a masculine version of Niamh and Niamh a feminine version of Gwaine. Everything was a mirror image of the other – including the spot-on glares of anger.  
Suddenly Niamh registered the expressions of shock and her glare turned into a smirk of amusement. She turned to Gwaine.  
“Well, well, little brother. It seems you never told anyone about me – judging by their expressions. Anyone would think you’re ashamed of me.”  
“I am ashamed of you, you harridan…”  
“Wait!” Leon interrupted, “Gwaine is your brother? Your little brother?”  
“I’m not her bloody little brother! We’re the same age!”  
“Ah, but to be fair, I am 10 minutes older than you…”  
At that statement, all hell broke loose and everyone was talking at once.  
“She’s your sister?...”  
“You’re twins?...”  
“Don’t remind me!”  
“You never said you had a sister…”  
“Of course I bloody well didn’t – have you met her?  
“Oh gads – you’re identical”  
“Say that again and I’ll slice your throat out!”  
“I’m much better looking then him.”  
“My gods – there’s two of them!”  
“She’s nothing like me!”  
“I’m the better version.”  
“Why didn’t you every invite her to Camelot?”  
“To spare you the abject misery of actually meeting her.”  
“Well that’s not very nice Gwendolyne”  
“Don’t you dare call me that!”  
“Oh Gwennie…”  
“Gwendolyne???”  
“Percy – call me that again an I’ll kill you where you stand.”  
Arthur watched as the other knights surrounded Gwaine and plied him with questions.  
“I knew she looked familiar,” Merlin said, coming to stand beside Arthur. “It’s amazing how much they look alike. I should have seen it.”  
Arthur snorted. “I should have known the moment we saw her in a bar fight.”  
The two watched as Gwaine and Niamh deflected the million questions and comments thrown their way. Standing side by side, the resemblance was remarkable, even down to matching gestures, scowls and glares. When they both tossed their hair in frustration, Merlin burst out laughing.  
“The hair – they’ve both got the hair.”  
Arthur shook his head. “I have a very bad feeling about this. One Gwaine is bad enough, but two – and a female Gwaine! This is not going to end well for me, is it?”  
“Oh I don’t know,” Merlin said jauntily beside him. “I think she’ll liven up the place.”  
Arthur turned to Merlin. “Why do I get the feeling that those were ‘famous last words’?”  
“Oh, come on, Arthur. She was loads of fun on the trip here. And Gwaine’s here. He’ll control her. And if worse comes to worse, you have the knights. I’m sure they could take her in a fight.”  
Arthur couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped. He clapped Merlin around the shoulders. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up. We’ll leave them to sort themselves out.”

Gwaine finally shooed everyone away with threats of dire consequence if they “didn’t bloody well keep your bloody noses out of my business!” As the knights drifted away, Gwaine turned to his sister, glaring at her with narrowed eyes.  
“What are you doing here, Niamh?”  
“I thought I’d drop in for a visit.”  
“A visit?” Gwaine asked in disbelief. “As I recall, the last time we saw each other we swore never to cross paths or even be in the same county as the other.”  
Niamh shrugged and looked around. “I heard about Camelot. It’s a coincidence that you’re here too. Two for the price of one, as it were.”  
Gwaine spun her around to face him. “What are you doing here?”  
Niamh stared him down, then finally relented. “Fine. We need to talk. But not here. Don’t you have quarters or something? A hole, a hovel somewhere?”  
“I have a room in the castle. We can go there.” Gwaine turned and started walking towards the front steps.  
“Wait.”   
Gwaine stopped and turned towards his sister. “Aren’t you on duty or something?” Niamh asked.  
“Or something. Are you coming?”   
Gwaine resumed his course and led his sister into the castle and over to the knights quarters. Niamh followed, head swiveling to take in all that she saw. The castle was beautiful outside and in. Servants passed and greeted Gwaine with a smile, then did an open-mouthed double-take when they saw Niamh. Up a circular staircase and down a corridor, Gwaine led the way without looking back. Halfway down the corridor he stopped and opened a door.  
Niamh stepped into the room and looked around curiously. It was a mid-size room – certainly larger than any room belonging to the knights of her father. There was a bed and a cupboard, a small table with two chairs and a shelf with Gwaine’s personal belongings. A sword and a sharpening stone rested on the table. A window with real glass threw the mid-day light into the room.  
Gwaine stood by the table, arms crossed. “Talk. You said we needed to talk, so talk. Then you can leave Camelot.”  
Niamh scowled at him in annoyance as she wandered over to sit on the bed. “Stop being so boorish, Gwennie. And I’m not turning around and leaving Camelot. I just got here.”  
“How long are you planning on staying then?”  
Niamh shrugged then rolled her shoulders and neck. “I have no idea. Depends on how much I like it here. So far – with the exception of you, it looks like I’ll quite like the place. Arthur and Merlin were certainly quite nice – especially that lovely Merlin.”  
“That’s King Arthur to you, madam! And you will leave Merlin alone.”  
“King Arthur? King? Huh – I knew he wasn’t a lowly huntsman – although I did think he could be a poacher. What about Merlin – what’s he then? A lord?”  
“Merlin is the King’s manservant. And you will leave him alone.”  
Niamh’s mouth dropped in shock. “His servant? Are you sure?”  
Gwaine looked a bit taken aback at his sister’s shock. “Quite sure. Merlin has been with Arthur for over 10 years.”  
“But – his servant? Well, I would never have guessed. They certainly don’t act like master and servant, more like-“  
“How they act is none of your damn business! You said you came here to talk to me – so talk. What are you doing here, Niamh?”  
Niamh suddenly sagged and she bowed her head. “Mother’s dead. The castle is gone. Some cousin of father’s showed up and laid claim as the next ‘tiarna’, the next lord. Dunlainge, him who claimed our lands, handed me 400 silver pieces, told me to find you and threw me out. We’ve lost our inheritance, Gwaine.”  
There was a scraping noise as Gwaine pulled out a chair to sit. “It’s all gone? No one fought for you?”  
Niamh shook her head. “Dunlainge showed up with a force of knights many times greater than ours and a charter from the king giving him our lands. He came under a banner of peace, claiming he came to pay respects to mother. Once inside the castle, the battle was won, his forces outnumbered ours by too many.”  
“When did this happen?”  
“Six months past now.”  
“And you’ve only just come to tell me?” Gwaine bellowed.  
“I’ve only just bloody found you!” Niamh bellowed back. “We had no idea where you were! You’ve been gone for years, Gwaine. Left mother and me alone to fend for ourselves.”  
“Oh don’t give me that shite! You know damn well both you and mother could defend the castle as much as me. And you know why I left. Father gave his life fighting for the Rí túaithe, and that shitty little kingling ran away while father lost his life defending his retreat. I was father’s squire – I saw him fall and I saw the back of the Rí as he rode away without a backward glance.”

“And with father’s death you became lord of the lands. You had a duty, Gwaine - only you never stayed, you left as soon as you could, leaving me to answer to him! Do you know he showed up proposing a marriage alliance – with mother! The Rí túaithe is barely older than me and he wanted to take our grieving mother as his wife to secure our allegiance.”

“Mother?” Gwaine stared at her in shock. “Mother would never-“

“Oh she wouldn’t and told him so in no uncertain terms. Said she didn’t care if he was a king, she’d beat his scrawny little arse if he so much as touched her or her lands and to get the feck out of our home. Pulled a sword on him before his guards could react. Threatened to castrate any of the guards that dared to come to his defense. By that time I had my sword out too. The little shite left as if it was his own idea.”

Gwaine smirked. “There you go then, you didn’t need me. Told you that you and mother could take care of yourselves.”

“That’s not the bloody point you sod! You left! You walked away and now we’ve lost it all. The Rí túaithe gave title to our lands to Dunlainge because there was no male heir. If you had stayed, you would be lord. You should have stayed.”

“I was not about to serve that cowardly shite! He’s not fit to be Rí túaithe, to demand our fealty, to demand I serve in his court. If there’s one thing I learned from my father’s life it’s that titles don’t mean anything. It’s what’s inside that counts. And that Rí túaithe, that pretend kingling, was not worth father’s life – and he’s not worth mine.”

“And this king is? This Arthur – he’s worth your life?”  
Gwaine nodded. “This one is.”  
Niamh stared at him for a moment, then snorted. “We’ll he’s not much use in a bar fight. And it only took one punch for me to deck him, so I don’t-“  
“You decked Arthur? In a bar fight??” Gwaine asked incredulously.  
“That’s where we met actually. He was under the mistaken belief that I was in need of assistance and tried to come to the rescue.”  
“So you decked him?”  
“Well I didn’t know he was being all noble and what. I just thought he was another one of the drunks.”  
Gwaine suddenly narrowed his eyes. “Wait – did you fight Merlin also? Did you hit Merlin?”  
“Merlin? Gods, no. He was smart enough to stay out of the fray. He just kept picking Arthur up and sending him back into the fight.”  
“Kept…how many times did Arthur go down?”  
“No idea. I know I hit him twice.”  
“Oh gods,” Gwaine slumped against the table. “You decked the king. Twice. He’s not going to let that go. He’s going to lock me in the dungeons… or worse – send me to the stocks.”  
“Stop being such a drama queen, Gwennie. Why should he punish you because of what I did?” Niamh lounged back on the bed. “Never mind about Arthur. He’s fine. He didn’t do anything to me so he’s not going to punish you. And have you forgotten the reason I’m here. Lost castle? Mother’s dead? Inheritance all gone?”  
Gwaine suddenly straightened up. “Wait. You said you were given 400 silver pieces. Where’s the money now?”  
“You sodding little shite!” Niamh leapt to her feet, arms on her hips in anger. “That’s all your interested in? The money?”  
“Of course not, but right now I can’t do anything about the castle and nothing I do will bring mother back. But you have 400 silver pieces – half of which I believe, belongs to me.”  
Niamh turned her back on Gwaine. “I said I was given 400 silver pieces, I didn’t say I had 400 silver pieces.”  
Niamh felt Gwaine surge up behind her. “What exactly are you saying, Niamh? How much of that money do you have left?”  
Niamh took a step forward to get out of her brother’s menacing shadow. “Less then 400.”  
“How much less? How much do you actually have, Niamh?”  
“260.”  
There was the sound of choked anger and Gwaine taking a deep breath. “Fine. I’ll take my 200. You keep your remaining 60.”  
“Like bloody hell I will!” Niamh whirled around furiously. “260 is left – that’s 130 for each of us!”  
“I was left 200! You spent your money on who the hell knows what – probably drink and whoring – that doesn’t mean you get to take my portion of the money.”  
“I spent that money looking for you, you giant gobshite! I’ve been all over this bloody country looking for you, paying bribes for information – oh, and let me tell you that you have quite the dishonorable reputation, little brother! More than one person tried to make me pay off one of your old debts! I didn’t even know you’d be here in Camelot – it was just chance that I’ve found you. But the money was spent looking for you. So we split what’s left. That’s the deal – take it or leave it.”  
“Why you bloody, cheating cow-“  
Outside Percy and Leon walked down the hallway leading to their rooms. As they passed Gwaine’s room they heard the yelling of brother and sister engaged in war of words.  
“Do you suppose they were always like that?” Percival asked, looking at the closed door. “Must have been hell for their parents.”  
“I’m still trying to get over the fact there’s two of them. Can you image what it’s going to be like around here with two of them.”  
Both men looked at each other and broke into grins. “I think we need to start a wager,” said Percival.


	3. Can I borrow a dress?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niamh meets Gwen

Niamh was in the midst of rummaging through her belongings in a guest room that Gwaine found for her. There was a knock on the door and someone let themself in.  
“Hello, welcome to Camelot.”  
Niamh glanced over her shoulder and saw a lovely dusky skinned woman smiling at her. “I thought I’d just pop in and welcome you-“  
“Yes, you’ve already said that. So who are you then, the welcoming committee?” Niamh asked distractedly, resuming her rummaging.  
“Well, yes, I suppose in a way. I’m Guinevere, I’m-“  
“Yes, yes, the welcoming committee.” Niamh gave up her search with a huff of exasperation and turned to regard the newcomer. Suddenly she registered just how well the other woman was dressed. Niamh’s eyes lit up.  
“Guinevere – you might be just the person I need!”  
“Oh. Well. That’s good. What-“  
“Your dress. It’s quite lovely.”  
“Thank you.”  
“I need one just like it. Tonight.”  
“You need my dress?”  
“Yes, well, not this exact dress, but I need a dress just like this for tonight. Where can I get one?”  
“Well you can’t exactly. I mean, this dress took quite some time to make, and-“  
“Well surely there must be somewhere in this town that I can get a dress to wear for tonight. Do you have any other dresses? We’re about the same build although I’m a taller than you – but I can adjust a petticoat to make up the difference in length. And a different colour I think – burgundy is not really my colour.”  
“Wait – you want to borrow one of my dresses? For tonight?”  
“Well yes. That shouldn’t be a problem, should it?” Niamh smiled her most persuasive smile.  
“Um, I..um…I’ve never lent anyone my dresses before.” Gwen answered, slightly shocked at the request.  
“Oh don’t be a stick-in-the-mud, Guinevere, I just need to borrow it for tonight. I’ll give it back I promise. It’s just that I’m dining with the King and I can’t exactly turn up wearing this now, can I? Although Arthur certainly didn’t complain about my outfit on our trip here.”  
“Arthur? You call the king Arthur?”  
Niamh laughed. “Well, after travelling with him for three day and spending nights together around the fire, you just sort of build up a bond, you know what I mean? I do think he took a bit of a fancy to me on our way here.”  
“Oh? Did he really?”  
“That’s why I would like to dress up a bit for him tonight – make him realize that what he’s missing. Show him what he could have if he plays his cards right. So, about the dress – perhaps I can come and see what you have? See what colour might suit me best?”  
Gwen stared, taken aback by the brazenness of Gwaine’s sister.  
“I don’t really think that would be a good idea.”  
“Oh for goodness sake, it’s just a dress! I wasn’t expecting to land up a court or else I would have brought my own dress to wear.” Niamh stopped suddenly. “Wait a minute, is this your best dress? Is that why you’re hesitating? Are your other dresses not suitable for dining with the king?”  
“They’re suitable, they are definitely suitable-“  
“Well, then there’s no problem. I’ll just borrow one of those.”  
Gwen finally had enough. “No. I don’t think you will. Perhaps we should start again. There seems to be some misunderstanding. My name is Guinevere and-“  
“Yes, yes, you’ve already introduced yourself-“  
“My Name” said Gwen clearly and overriding Niamh. “My name is Guinevere. Queen Guinevere. Wife of King Arthur. Queen of Camelot. And my dresses are not for borrowing.”  
Niamh’s face dropped in shock. “Queen Guinevere? Queen?? Arthur is married???”  
Gwen regarded Niamh with a steely gaze. “Yes. King Arthur is married. To me. And yes, I am the Queen.”  
“But…but…married? To you?”  
Gwen stared silently back at her, drawing herself up in full regal majesty.


End file.
